


Silver and Gold

by Veul_McLannon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Idiots to Idiots, M/M, Victorian era, post-hundred-year-nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veul_McLannon/pseuds/Veul_McLannon
Summary: Why did Mizpah (or remembrance) jewellery come back in bang around the turn of the century after being out of fashion for forty-odd years? Because Crowley woke up from his century-long nap, received a gift from his long-suffering companion and promptly ‘persuaded’ the local, very high-brow jeweller that they were in fashion again. Cheeky snake.





	Silver and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Mizpah: from Hebrew; the deep emotional bond between two people, especially separated by distance (or death).   
> These rings were popular in the 1850s and 1860s, and saw a revival in the 1900s. They were typically exchanged between lovers or close friends (from what I gather it was used in the latter context as one of the few acceptable ways for a man and a woman who weren’t courting to show affection). I went down the ‘friends’ route being the more popular one for cheap laughs more than anything, but for real. These two with not-quite-matching-matchy rings? Spare me.

“I brought champagne,” Crowley waved the bottle a little awkwardly, slipping in the bookshop door to lean against the frame as though he were afraid to venture too far in.

 _As well he should be,_ thought Aziraphale huffily, bringing glasses into the cosy back room from the kitchen as though he hadn’t been waiting for the tell-tale tinkle of the bell over the door for the last quarter of an hour. Out loud he called, “In here, my dear,” and continued rearranging the cushions as casually as he could.

Crowley set the bottle on the table as he passed, before plastering himself over the angel’s back, digging his chin into the crook of Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I brought champagne,” he repeated, more softly, listening with some pleasure to the way the angel forgot to breathe and smiling into his neck.

“I should hope so!” was the tart reply, as Aziraphale wriggled around in his arms to face him, his tone belied by the way his eyes softened upon meeting Crowley’s. “Can’t have you forgetting and taking another century-long nap, can we, my dear?” He raised an eyebrow over adoring eyes, in no way adding to any sensation that Crowley was actually being told off.

Crowley noted this out loud, and was rewarded by being shoved away to sit on the sofa as Aziraphale made little ‘tchah’ noises and rolled his eyes.

Once Aziraphale joined him, however, he wasted no time in reapplying himself to the angel’s person, receiving another pair of rolled eyes and more importantly an arm around his shoulder for his troubles.

“I really didn’t mean to sleep for so long, angel. I had thought maybe a couple of decades at best... if I do anything like that again, you have my permission to come and wake me.” He smiled charmingly and batted his eyelashes as Aziraphale’s eyes assumed the proportions of saucers.

“What, and get discorporated for my trouble? I know how fond you are of sleep, my dear, I should never try and come between you.”

Crowley huffed and nudged his companion. “No, really though. I missed so much... _and_ let _you_ wander around on your own, _blessing_ things for a century. Dangerous business, angel. Can’t have that kind of behaviour.”

He received a nudge back for his trouble, but the arm around his shoulders didn’t move, so he wasn’t overly concerned.

They were only halfway through the second bottle (barely even tipsy), when Aziraphale broke one of their habitual spells of warm silence (in between much more heated discussions) with a rather uncharacteristic “Um”.

“Hmm?” asked Crowley, swinging his head over to regard his companion curiously.

“Remembered something else you missed while you were asleep, actually. They had this funny little fad for, uh. Accessories while you were out.”

Crowley groaned. “ _Please_ don’t tell me I missed a rerun of silk hose and garters. Your legs looked _amazing_ in those.”

“Duly noted,” murmured Aziraphale, clearing his throat a little before continuing at a more normal pitch. “No, ah, not _quite_ , my dear, more in the... metal department. Here, I’d better show you, it was lucky I picked one up at the time as they had _quite_ gone out of fashion almost within the decade... now where was it... ah!” He finished rummaging around in the depths of his beige smoking jacket and produced a small velvet box, which he held out to Crowley.

The demon blinked, willing his fickle heart rate to assume a more sedentary pace, well aware as he was of the connotations of small-velvet-box-giving among humans. He licked his lips, and took it, gingerly prying it open, unable to resist a thrill at the prospect of the unknown.

Inside nestled a sleek silver ring with something engraved on it – and two tiny yellow stones set on either side of the engraving. He struggled not to smile over-soppily as he recognised his own damned eyes in them. In an attempt to save his dignity, he brought the thing up close to his face to read the engraving.

“Miz... pah. Watchtower? Oh, angel. Keeping an eye on me? That’s _charming_.” He tried to inject as much dripping sarcasm as he could into his voice, but it clearly wasn’t enough, as Aziraphale was smiling _that_ smile back at him. The one that said in clear tones, “Yes, dear, you’re terribly fearsome and biting and I find it terribly endearing, but I shan’t say anything as I have learned the joys of an easy life.”

“I know it’s... Biblical, but well. You know how humans are; they’ll make anything mean something else. For example, these are remembrance rings. But, ah, really I thought you might just want some little thing from the last century and these were in such great abundance that I... well, you see.” He smiled and patted the demon’s knee. “I promise I wasn’t trying to... inflict the Bible on you, my dear. I thought it was nicer than mourning jewellery, which I _might as well_ have bought, seeing as you didn’t deign to _awaken_ for more than a human lifetime.” He sniffed archly.

Crowley, meanwhile, had slipped the ring onto his finger (left ring finger, Aziraphale’s traitorous brain noted) and was admiring the effect the stones had in the dim light of the back room.

“Thank you, angel. You’re right, I’m glad to have something to remind me that you exist.” He started laughing at Aziraphale’s mock-affronted expression, but sobered quickly to add while staring down the skirting-board, “To remind me that certain... things are worth being awake for. Persons. Person-shaped beings. Thank you.”

He then continued to eye the glittering addition to his attire, until Aziraphale took pity on him and refilled their glasses, drawing Crowley’s attention back to himself. The demon grinned and wound himself around his angel’s neck, performing a minor miracle to prevent their champagne from spilling as he draped himself over Aziraphale’s lap.

“You do know how to spoil, don’t you angel?” He batted eyelashes noticeably longer than they had been two seconds ago and laughed, throwing back the glassful of champagne as though it were air.

Aziraphale shifted haughtily. “I’m sure I know nothing of the kind, you absolute beast.” He sniffed again, then smiled down at his lapful of demon. “I’m glad you like it.”

Crowley hummed, eyes drifting shut. “I like _you_.”

He could feel Aziraphale’s eyes on him, so he kept his own shut for a while – until the alcohol had seeped sufficiently into his system that blushing was acceptable.

***

 “Angel!” The door clattered shut behind the demon striding on long legs to the angel sat at his desk, determinedly focusing on his book.

“Mm?” Aziraphale said as non-committally as possible.

There was silence for a minute or two.

Eventully, Crowley slid a hand onto the spread pages before Aziraphale, grinning broadly.

The angel looked up, summoning a semblance of affront. “I don’t-”

“Your eyes weren’t moving, angel. The page wasn’t moving either, for that matter, so don’t pretend you were just absorbing it like you usually do.” The mirth was evident in Crowley’s voice. He wiggled the fingers on the pages between them, drawing Aziraphale’s attention back to the book.

“I was at a jeweller’s today. Business, of course; a hotbed of impressionable people. Anyway: this ring.”

“Ye-e-es?” Aziraphale could feel his eyes narrowing involuntarily, shiftily, as the spinning wheel of topics span and landed on something approaching Feelings. The ring had been the safest one he could find; absolutely extortionate of course (they were usually a quite affordable silver, or slightly less affordable gold, but he’d had this one made in platinum with a pair of tiny yellow diamonds to either side of the text), as he had thought Crowley, despite their long and varied relationship, might still be averse to the more traditional demonstration of affection, given the... holy connotations. Of course, there were _links_ to the Bible in this funny little fashion, but then, _they themselves_ were links to the Bible, so that could hardly be considered insensitive... Oh, he hoped Crowley wasn’t upset, he had so loved the idea when they had first appeared in shops.

They may not have swapped them themselves, but for two decades the little rings and brooches in every jeweller’s shop served their intended role, calling the demon to his mind any time he saw one.

“They’re meant to be a pair, aren’t they?” Crowley’s eyes were unreadable behind his glasses, but he didn’t _sound_ offended.

“Well, yes.”

“They’re exchanged between... friends?”

“Yes?” Aziraphale was beginning to feel a little like a parrot gone wrong.

Then, very quietly, “Have I been demoted, angel?”

Aziraphale choked on air, which was quite a feat when you don’t necessarily need lungs. “Y- I- _What?_ ” he wheezed, before irritably miracling the problem away while staring at the demon askance.

Crowley suddenly grinned, still inscrutable behind his dark lenses. “Jussst tesssting.”

“Yes, and I’m Queen Victoria,” came the sarcastic response.

“Oh, it went to her in the end, did it? Pretty far down the line, but it’s a wonder what mad, bad relatives can land a country with.” He tilted his glasses down his nose, and winked.

Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open into a perfect little ‘o’ shape. The grin wriggled back onto Crowley’s face like it belonged there. “You-?” the angel managed, brow furrowed in amazement. Crowley preened for a second, before the angel’s face cleared and he smiled beatifically. “You always did have a soft spot for ensuring women had some power, didn’t you my dear?”

Crowley couldn’t help it; he hissed, fangs becoming considerably more evident, before he averted his eyes sheepishly, reaching up to fiddle with his hair as he muttered, “Well, they didn’t really have the best start on earth, so I figured...”

Aziraphale’s smile could have melted butter. “My _dear_...”

“Stop- stop _looking_ at me like that, angel, I just- jussst wanted to cause some... missschief. The royal family is absolutely fair game, you can’t deny that.” Aziraphale’s smile didn’t move an inch. The demon quickly tried to change the subject. “Anyway, I, um. I stole this. So you may as well have it.” And he thrust a small velvet box in the angel’s direction, making firm and confident eye contact with the floor.

He did peer up just enough to see the light flare with excitement behind Aziraphale’s too-blue eyes; relishing being able to cause the same reaction as one of the angel’s precious books. (That is to say, _not_ relishing. Being... proud. Yes. Pride was a sin, after all.)

Crowley leaned nonchalantly on the desk-turned-counter, drawing the line at examining his fingernails, but only just. When Aziraphale gasped, he took his time looking over at the angel, raising an eyebrow just a fraction in crafted curiosity.

This was immediately belied when he muttered, “It opens, too,” before gnawing on his fingernails in lieu of attempting further speech.

The angel was practically beaming, his natural curiosity prodded awake. He picked up the little golden ring, with two pale sapphires set in each half of a little hinged covering. He knew instantly that Crowley had sussed the yellow diamonds, and that these gems would be a perfect match for his own blue eyes. The tiny hinges were duly pried open, revealing the same word – ‘Mizpah’ – engraved below the covering.

“Crowley... it’s _beautiful_ ,” he murmured, looking up at the demon who had finally given up the pretence of nonchalance in favour of watching the angel’s reaction.

He ducked his head, waved a hand in an approximation of airiness. “Like I said. Stole it. I’m, uh. It’s good that you like it though, that’s... that’s good.”

Aziraphale continued smiling beatifically up at his companion, slipping the ring on as he stood and came round to the front of the desk.

“It’s beautiful,” he repeated softly, tugging Crowley round so they were facing each other before linking their similarly be-ringed hands.

All things considered, Crowley shouldn’t have been surprised when Aziraphale kissed him, but he still managed to emit a rather un-demonic whine as the angel did just that, free hand coming up automatically to rest on his hip. By all accounts, it was nothing earth-shattering; like so many of the kisses they had shared over the years, soft and quiet and comfortable – but it felt like the beginning of something new.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley's ring to Aziraphale is heavily based on this one: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/0f/8d/19/0f8d1925e11a44965e0af80f03628d0a.jpg ; https://www.kalmarantiques.com.au/wp-content/uploads/mizpah-ring-3.jpg
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you have time, I live and breathe comments <3


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